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The Do’s On My Shoulders

You know that band you’ve always wanted to form, the one with the little-girl-lost singer with the mischevious eyes and the propulsive beats that drive bass hooks so catchy you want to bottle them up and sell them to Sting? That’s right, that fictional band that lingers just that little deeper in your imagination every time you saunter down Bedford Avenue, surrounded by girls in neon tights and guys in ruffed up converse. You know the one? Well, guess what, you’re too late. It’s arrived. It’s French. And it’s so damn good.